Cesar Gutierrez grew up in San Antonio, Texas. And, after spending some time in New York, he and his wife, Tanya, moved back this fall. A graduate of St. Mary's University, Cesar's poetry was encpouraged by the poet and publisher Cyra Dumitru and developed through his active participation in the St. Mary's University Poets and Writers group.

"“These poems by Cesar Gutierrez are rooted in deep attention to the moment—recreated moments that took place during his years of growing up in a suburban San Antonio neighborhood. They reflect a sharpness of mind, a sensitivity of skin, a slyness of humor and a sad witness as the speaker of this powerful collection examines reality seen from inside a drainage ditch, atop a cooling summer roof, walking barefoot to the mailbox, noting that the street sign still bears misspelled words. This collection asks the question: where is the freedom implied by the American dream when the last tree in the neighborhood is gone, when the natural places that engaged a youthful imagination are paved over, when next-door neighbors feel so distant? It is a powerful irony that such crafted poetry of attention reveals the dullness of awareness that can become the price of middle-class life.”—Cyra S. Dumitru, author of What The Body
Knows & Listening to Light

Lomesome Pine

It wasn’t that everybody had a nasty little secret,
it was that no one took the time to read the signs.

It was hard finding the couple made of the man with a drinking problem
and the wife with a busted lip
when people stopped gossiping face to face.

Maybe after five or seven years
some one would say something.
Somebody would eventually notice
that the last neighborhood tree had finally been cut down.

Some day we’d figure out what happened
to that middle child who seemed a little off.
The one no parent let their kid be alone with
and who wasn’t allowed to play with scissors.
But only after someone pointed out that he stopped mowing lawns.

The main problem
with this part of middle America is that,
after years and years
of riding the bus to school
and driving home from work,
no one has cared to change the misspelled street sign.